


Hereditary

by PepperPrints



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 03:13:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepperPrints/pseuds/PepperPrints
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has your eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hereditary

**Author's Note:**

> For the 30_kisses challenge. Prompt: "hey, you know...."

 What did you say to the man whose father you killed?

 

Jake wasn't a child by any means, but he was still young. He was half of Chris's age, and had already seen a lifetime of terror because of his history. His past had been a mystery to him, and Chris could not imagine how much it hurt when the truth crashed down on him all at once. Chris wondered what Jake imagined his father to be before then – surely any fantasy at all would have been better than what the reality turned out to be.

 

It was Sherry who had convinced him to come here. She was a few rooms down with Claire, catching up with her, while Jake sat here with Chris. They hadn't said much beyond the initial pleasantries, but even that was stiff and frosty, for obvious reasons.

 

Regardless of what kind of man his father was, Jake had every right to be furious about his death. Chris had killed Albert Wesker, and that denied Jake any chance at closure. Chris would tell him what he knew, but honestly it wasn't all that much to offer. Jake had questions that only his father could answer, and now Jake would never know. With how much anger had been in him, Chris wouldn't have been surprised if Jake was most upset about not being able to kill Wesker himself.

 

Sherry made coffee, and Jake was warming his hands on the mug. Both of them had a cup, and neither of them had touched it. “So,” Jake said suddenly, voice drawling.

 

“So,” repeated Chris, earning a sharp look from Jake in response. Chris met the gaze, unwavering, patiently waiting for Jake to speak.

 

“So, I read the reports about you,” Jake began, idly tapping his forefinger against his mug. “All that stuff you did with my old man.”

 

Chris wasn't sure he had ever had his entire career summarized as 'stuff', and it was a bit harsh, but he let it be. “You used to work for him, right,” Jake continued, “before, y'know.” Jake glanced at him, frowning a little. “Before you knew he was fucking nuts.”

 

That was one way to put it. “I did,” he affirmed, finally lifting his coffee to his lips. “He was my captain; I would have trusted him with my life, and I would have given my life for him.”

 

Chris went quiet for a moment, staring into his coffee. That was how deep a man's devotion went, and he had been on both sides of it: he had been willing to die for men, and he had men willing to die for him. There was nothing stronger than that, and Chris had to work to keep himself deserving of the sacrifices that had been made in his name. Piers had died to keep Chris alive, and Chris wouldn't let that be in vain. He stayed with the BSAA, and he did his best to repair the damage that had been left behind.

 

That was why he was here with Jake.

 

Jake, who was staring at him, and then he laughed a little, slumping forward with his elbows on the table. “Are you serious?” he asked skeptically, and he looked around, as if an answer would be in the air around them. “How did you not know you were serving Captain Crazy?”

 

Chris felt his lips thin a little, but he was patient. “He wasn't like that then,” explained Chris simply. “It was an act, and I fell for it, but he was different too. All that insanity with Uroboros...” Wesker had been been cruel from the very start, but not insane. Chris shook his head somewhat, taking a sip from his mug; the coffee actually wasn't half bad. “Something snapped in him.”

 

“Yeah, sure,” said Jake, seeming dismissive, but Chris could see the gears turning in his mind. “I bet he was just peachy before that.”

 

“No,” replied Chris without hesitation. “He was always cold, but he was a damn good commander, and I respected him for that.”

 

There was more to it than just what was spoken, which was better left unsaid. Jake didn't need to hear about that. Jake was silent, introspective, and Chris watched him, taking in the concentrated expression on his face.

 

Jake did look like his father. Chris hadn't realized it entirely at first, simply feeling a nagging familiarity that he could not place, but once he heard it from Leon, it was suddenly so obvious. There was enough of his mother in his face to throw him off – though Chris tried not to wonder too much about what kind of woman Jake's mother must have been. His nose had certainly come from her, and so had the shape of his mouth, but not his eyes.

 

The eyes were the same.

 

“...what?” said Jake sharply, both of them realizing at the same time that Chris was staring. Chris hadn't meant to, obviously, but it was hard to help himself. Before he learned the truth, something about Jake had always made him hesitate, and his gaze had lingered on him for for longer than necessary as he tried to put his finger on it.

 

Now that he knew, it seemed almost painfully obvious.

 

Chris shook his head a little. “Just thinking,” he replied, though Jake hardly looked convinced by that. He opened his mouth, ready to speak, but Chris's phone cut him off.

 

“Sorry,” said Chris, reaching his hand into his pocket and pulling it out. Jake shrugged, waving his hand to encourage him to go ahead, and he leaned back in his seat, arms stretched up above his head. Chris recognized the number on the screen, and he paused as he answered it. “Leon?”

 

Jake perked up a bit at that, one brow arching, and Chris frowned a bit at the tone that followed. “Chris, I need to tell you something, and this is important – are you alone?” Leon asked, and there was something in his voice that put Chris on edge.

 

“No,” said Chris honestly, meeting Jake's curious stare. “I'm with Jake. Why?”

 

Jake grinned a bit, apparently having made his own guess on what this was about, and he held up his hand. “Five mil,” he mouthed smugly, lifting five fingers up in demonstration, and Chris might have smiled too had Leon not been utterly silent.

 

“Leon?” he pressed. “Is something wrong?”

 

After a few more seconds of quiet, he heard Leon sigh. “No,” he said, “that's probably just about the worst place you could be.”

 

Chris stiffened, moving the phone from one hand to the other. Something was wrong. Leon did take the time to pause, so there was no emergency, but something was clearly very, very wrong. “Leon?” he asked slowly. “What's going on?”

 

“They lied, Chris,” replied Leon lowly. “They kept him alive.”

 

Chris went very still, his eyes widening, and he lifted his gaze to Jake. Leon couldn't mean – that was impossible.

 

“What?” asked Jake, narrowing his eyes at him, and Chris had absolutely no idea what to tell him.

 

–

 

What did to say to the man who you killed?

 

Or, Chris thought he had killed him. Leon had dug deep to learn this much, and he urged Chris not to tell Jake just yet. While keeping this from him did not sit well with Chris, he would admit Leon had a point. He would tell Jake, but he would see Wesker with his own eyes first.

 

The report said that Albert Wesker had survived the conflict in Africa, but just barely. Chris couldn't imagine the shock when they found what they believed to be his corpse and discovered he was still breathing. Uroboros was to blame for that – and so was stubborn science. In that weakened state, they could have still finished him off, but they chose not to, because he was 'valuable'.

 

It was honestly a little sickening. No one deserved to be a test subject, no matter who it was, and even now Chris could not make an exception; not even Wesker had earned that.

 

Leon had pulled a whole lot of strings to get him in here, and Chris was grateful. No one would have granted him permission without Leon's help, and he wasn't sure what he would have done without it. He was led down a narrow hall to a very small cell. The whole place was armed to the teeth; they were taking no chances with their prisoner, even when they believed him significantly weakened. There was evidence that the fight to have left serious damage behind – that was the reason they were allowing Chris this close, and allowing him here alone.

 

Wesker was seated on the floor against the opposite wall of the cell, his entire body bound. Chris didn't know what material they used to make the straitjacket tight enough, but it seemed to be working, since Wesker sincerely tried to move when he laid his eyes on Chris, and got nowhere.

 

“You're here,” he said, his voice tight and his eyes narrow. “And I thought you'd never come.”

 

Chris wasn't sure what to make of that. Had Wesker actually been waiting for him? “I thought you were dead,” he told him bluntly, and Wesker smiled cruelly.

 

Wesker looked ragged. Without the cover of his sunglasses, it was easy to see the weariness in his expressions. His hair had grown out a bit too long, bangs falling in front of his face messily. There were scars around his eyes and down his cheeks, marking him with burned flesh.

 

Chris thought about the scar on Jake's face and his frown deepened.

 

“You always underestimate my power,” observed Wesker, his voice carrying a soft chuckle. Chris was beginning to wonder if he was in such a good mood because he took this much sick pleasure in seeing Chris again. He doubted Wesker got much entertainment anymore.

 

“You don't look too powerful right now,” he countered coldly, which robbed Wesker of his amusement all at once. His eyes narrowed into a glare, and their glow was obvious without the sunglasses.

 

“Did you come for a reason, Chris?” he asked outright. “Or did you simply miss my company?” The question was punctuated with a small smirk, and Chris ignored it. He wasn't going to play games.

 

“I met your son.”

 

Wesker paused, and his expression changed very slowly, eyes narrowing into slits. Wesker didn't believe him, that much was obvious in his face, but as Chris remained standing firm in front of him, he had to be realizing Chris wouldn't make something like this up.

 

“He still thinks you're dead,” Chris told him. “You probably would be, if I brought him with me.”

 

Wesker laughed lowly, as if to dismiss the idea as insanity, but his smirk was quickly faltering as Chris continued. “He became a mercenary,” Chris said, crossing his arms over his chest. “His name is Jake.”

 

Silence hung heavily between them for a long moment. Chris imagined that Wesker would have very much liked the shield of his sunglasses, given how much his expression tightened and shifted. Wesker was staring at him, and Chris stared back, unwavering. “He has your eyes.”

 

The comparison admittedly didn't work as well now. More accurately, Jake's eyes were the same as Wesker's had been before the virus. With how stubbornly Wesker wore his sunglasses, it wasn't as if Chris had seen them very often. Whenever Wesker did take them off, it was incredibly brief – except for once, and the moment was so significant that the memory still stood out strongly in his mind, even after so many years.

 

“It doesn't surprise me that you didn't know,” Chris said bluntly. “You never bothered to waste time with people.”

 

To be honest, Chris was surprised that Wesker even engaged with another person enough for Jake to exist. Even before the bullshit about being God started, Wesker acted like he was too good for anyone else, and he certainly never showed an interest in anything even remotely close to intimacy.

 

“You sound bitter,” observed Wesker, his tone betraying little, but his voice was undeniably quieter than it had been before. Wesker leaned back a little, and Chris could see his limbs relax against their restraints. “Does that mean you told him?”

 

Chris narrowed his eyes at that, taking a step forward. “Told him what?” he asked, scowling when Wesker smirked at him again.

 

“I may not 'waste time' with people, Chris, but I'm not oblivious,” Wesker replied dryly.

 

Chris clenched his jaw. “Don't know what you're talking about,” he said shortly, and the lie was obvious.

 

Wesker looked incredibly underwhelmed. He tilted his head back, red eyes looking Chris up and down. “You were always one of my best men, Chris.”

 

“Don't start that bullshit,” warned Chris quietly, his feet carrying him closer. “We were just pawns to you.”

 

“But you were a particularly loyal one,” Wesker responded smoothly, giving Chris pause. Wesker would see through his lie; he knew what was on Chris's mind, and pretending otherwise was pointless.

 

“I told him I thought you were a good man, once,” he admitted, though that wasn't exactly what he had said. He told Jake that he thought Wesker was a good _captain_ , not a good person, and that made a world of difference. “That I trusted you.”

 

Wesker made a thoughtful noise. “Is that all.” The phrasing made it not sound like a question at all, Wesker's voice drawling and full of implication. He was looking expectantly at Chris, and Chris stared back, unmoving. “I suppose the rest would be inappropriate.”

 

Chris stiffened up, his shoulders tensing, and he glared at Wesker now. “Don't you dare.”

 

Wesker smirked again, his head lolling to the side as he glanced over him. “Why come here, Chris?” he asked. “Why tell me about the son I will never be permitted to see?”

 

“You had a right to know,” said Chris, as if it was that simple. “Even if you wouldn't care.”

 

“Were you hoping I would?” asked Wesker, sounding genuinely curious. “Did you expect joy and demands to see him?” Chris said nothing, because he honestly wasn't sure what he thought might happen. He didn't really think about it. “Were you hoping to find something human in me?”

 

Chris shrugged his shoulders, trying to seem dismissive, but he doubted it was at all convincing. “You might have been human, at some point,” he replied, sounding highly skeptical. “But that's gone now.”

 

“Perhaps,” mused Wesker with a widening grin. “I think you did miss me.”

 

Chris scowled and he came up close. He glared down at Wesker, looming over him, but Wesker hardly seemed bothered or at all intimidated. Wesker lifted his head, peering up at him with a knowing smile on his face.

 

That was what inspired him to action.

 

Dropping to one knee, Chris reached out and closed his hand around Wesker's throat. He didn't squeeze down, not yet, but the grip was firm and the threat was obvious. Wesker stared back, his eyes glowing, and Chris's fingers tightened.

 

“Go ahead,” encouraged Wesker, his voice quiet – intimate. “This time you might succeed.”

 

Chris clenched his jaw. It was tempting to do it. Wesker had done more than enough to deserve death after all that he'd done, and he was never going to be sorry about it. He was never going to change. Wesker had been a monster long before the virus infected his blood.

 

“What are you waiting for?” asked Wesker lowly, his eyes lidded – those same eyes that Jake had inherited from him; they had been intense even before they changed to red. “Do it.” Wesker was urging Chris on, and for a moment it startled him, until he realized why.

 

Wesker had thought himself to be a God, and now he was here: bound and imprisoned by mere humans with no way out. He looked ragged, his vanity destroyed, and he was powerless.

 

Wesker surged forward suddenly, snapping his teeth to see if Chris would flinch. Chris didn't, and Wesker smirked in obvious approval.

 

Wesker was right, and Chris had wanted to do something for such a long time.

 

Chris didn't let himself think about it as he leaned in and kissed Wesker's upturned lips. Wesker could have bitten him, if he wanted to, and Chris was honestly expecting it, but it didn't come. He kept the contact light and chaste, even as Wesker parted his lips and exhaled warmly against Chris's mouth. It was so tempting to take the kiss deeper, and it would have been so easy, but Chris bowed his head away, earning a quiet noise from Wesker that sounded like disappointment.

 

Chris pulled back after a moment, meeting Wesker's dimly glowing eyes. His hand loosened on his throat, but he lingered, keeping close to him, and there was an expression on Wesker's face that Chris had never seen before.

 

Something human.

 

–

 

What did you say?

 

They were back where they had started, and things were even more hopeless than before. Jake had taken the news better than Chris expected – which wasn't saying too much, since Chris had expected a small disaster. Jake had been angry, but far from murderous. He let out a lot of colorful commentary, more creative curses strung together than Chris had ever heard at once before, and in a burst of outrage he'd broken the mug that Sherry served his coffee in. He was at least cleaning it up now, sweeping the shards away and wiping away the spill.

 

“I'll buy her a new one,” muttered Jake under his breath, and Chris said nothing. He had tried to help Jake with the mess, but was waved away very insistently, which was probably for the best. Jake still looked like he might try to punch him if Chris got close enough.

 

“We could figure something out,” offered Chris after a moment. “If you did want to see him.”

 

Jake frowned, shrugging his shoulders, but the gesture was incredibly stuff. “I'll think about it,” he said sourly. Then, after a moment, he added: “Do you think they'll let me bring a gun?”

 

“No,” said Chris simply, and Jake smirked.

 

“Bare hands then,” he concluded, a bit of his humor returning – if he was indeed joking. “Probably better that way; more satisfying.”

 

Jake threw away the coffee-stained paper towels, wiping his hands down with a fresh one. “How'd it go, anyway,” he asked tentatively, his voice quieter than Chris anticipated, “when you saw him?”

 

There was a question that he had expected, and still had no idea how to answer. Chris breathed out deeply, staring into his coffee. “About as well as you'd think,” said Chris, which wasn't entirely the truth, but it wasn't exactly a lie either. Jake sighed, and he dropped back into his chair heavily.

 

“Don't bullshit a bullshitter,” cautioned Jake, causing Chris to stare. Jake narrowed his eyes, looking almost affronted.

 

“Hey, you know... I can tell by how you look at me.”

 

Chris stilled, his eyes widening a fraction. “What?”

 

That must have been the wrong response. Jake shook his head a bit and he pulled back, quickly rising from his seat again. “Forget it,” he sighed. “Whatever, I'll think about it. I've gotta go apologize for Sherry's mug.”

 

Chris watched him go, debating keeping his silence, but that wouldn't do. Chris straighted up, calling out before he reached the door.

 

“Jake,” he said, “you're nothing like him.”

 

That made Jake pause, turning his head back towards Chris. He believed this without doubt now: Wesker was a monster, but that would not infect his son. Jake was different, and because of that, he would be a stronger man. Jake grinned knowingly, chuckling under his breath as he opened the door.

 

“Too bad for you then,” he taunted.


End file.
